


Maverick

by afalsebravado



Category: Marvel (Comics), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Comfort Sex, Comfort/Angst, M/M, barters, steve x clint - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-01-05
Updated: 2015-01-05
Packaged: 2018-03-05 13:59:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,179
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3122795
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/afalsebravado/pseuds/afalsebravado
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Cap is starting therapy and going through a rough time.  Clint is always going through a rough time, so he's got some insider knowledge on how to help.  Hey, that's what a good wingman does, right?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Maverick

**Author's Note:**

> This will be a multi-chapter fic with several pairings. I'll update the relationships section as we go along so as not to spoil anything. Subscribe for updates!

_Okay.  This looks bad._

Clint is standing at the foot of the bed, wearing only loose pajama pants, staring down at Captain America who is asleep, tangled in the sheets.  He remembers how they got here, but he's not sure where they  _go_  from here.

_Coffee.  Coffee will fix this._

Clint pads quietly into the kitchen and fills the coffee maker with water.  He switches it on and listens to it percolate while the familiar scent fills the air.  When it's about halfway full he realizes he should probably offer some to his slumber buddy.  Clint opens all the cupboards and finds a single clean mug.  He shrugs and fills it up for Steve, then carries it and the pot back to the bedroom.  He puts the mug on the side table and sits on the edge of the bed.  He sips from the pot and burns his tongue.

_Aw mornings._

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

Clint is sitting in the waiting room of the former SHIELD-vetted therapist when Steve Rogers walks through the door, looking sheepish.  Clint lowers his four-month old issue of _InStyle_ and smiles at him.

"Wasn't expecting to cross paths with you in here, Cap," Clint says.  "You got an appointment?"

Steve gives a shy wave to the receptionist to signal that he's arrived, then takes the seat next to Clint.  "Hey, yeah.  I figured it was about time."

"It can be scary, but it helps.  I promise."  Clint offers Steve the magazine.  "Care to find out which flirty flats will flatter your figure?"

Steve laughs and finally makes eye contact with Clint for the first time since he walked in the room.  "Thanks.  I've always wondered if I could pull off leopard print."

Clint shifts down in his chair and leans his head against the wall, closing his eyes.  "You totally could."

#

After his appointment, Clint peers into the waiting room, which is empty.  Figuring that he's got nothing else planned for the day, he walks up to the receptionist.

"Hey man, has Cap come out yet?"

The receptionist looks up at him and narrows his eyes.  "And you are?"

"Clint Bar-  Hawkeye."  Clint frowns.  "I'm an Avenger."

The man behind the desk stares at him for a long moment before his eyes slide down to the appointment book in front of him.  "Steve Rogers is still in session."

"Do you know when he'll be done?" Clint asks.

"I'm sorry,  _sir_ , but I can't disclose that information to you," the receptionist replies.  "Confidentiality.  I'm sure you understand."

Clint clenches his jaw, but says nothing.  He feels like his therapist would be proud of him.  Impulse control, she called it.  "Thanks anyway," Clint says through gritted teeth.  

He walks out of the office and sits on the steps of the building.  He thinks back to his first session and how hollow he felt afterwards.  How exposed and frayed everything was.  Would've been nice to have someone waiting, afterwards.  It's the least he can do for a teammate, he figures.

#

"Clint?" 

Clint jerks awake at the sound of his name.  The sun is hanging low in the sky and the business plaza is nearly empty.  There's a small pile of change at Clint's feet.

"Oh for..."  He peers up at Steve, whose face is looking a little red and blotchy.  "Do I look like I'm homeless?  I feel like someone should have told me if I look that bad on a daily basis."

Steve smirks and huffs a quiet laugh.  "You look fine, Barton.  I think you just have a habit of blending in to the scenery.  It's a good skill for a spy to have, honestly."

Clint reaches up with one hand and Steve helps haul him to his feet.  "Nice, Cap.  That was a really slick way of turning that around."

"I certainly have no idea what you mean."

They smile at each other and there's a beat of silence, but Clint speaks before it can stretch into awkwardness.  "So... hungry?  I was going to check out a new burger place a couple blocks from here."

"Sure, sounds good," Steve replies.  He gestures for Clint to lead the way.  "Hey, have you been waiting here for me the whole time?"

Clint puts his hands in his pockets and starts heading towards the sidewalk.  "What?  Nah.  Just looked like a good place for a nap.  You know.  Total random happenstance."

Steve smiles and falls into step beside Clint.  "Right."

They walk in comfortable silence until Steve finally says: "Thanks, Clint."

#

"And then the next thing I know I'm falling out of a window on to a car."

Steve nearly snorts his milkshake out of his nose from laughter.  He coughs a few times, which draws some gazes from the surrounding patrons, but no one seems to quite recognize them.

"Jesus Barton, how did you walk away from that one?"

Clint takes his burger wrapper and scrunches it up into a ball, tossing it into his fry cup.  "Painfully.  And with a slight limp."

Steve shakes his head, then slurps up the last of his milkshake through his straw.  "That was really good."

"Right?" Clint replies.  "Definitely worth coming back someday."

"Yeah, we will for sure."  Steve smiles at him, eyes wide.  "So, where to next?"

Clint shrugs.  "I had no plans.  How you feeling?"

Steve looks down at the table, tracing a gouge in the wood with his finger.  "Like I don't really want to go back to my empty apartment."

"Yeah, I get that," Clint says.  "Alright then, movie night.  My place.  It's not far - let's go."

Steve picks up the tray and takes it to the garbage while Clint panics about the fact that he just invited  _Captain America_  back to his apartment  _what the hell was he thinking._

#

 _"You.  You are still dangerous."_   Clint whispers the lines of the movie in time with the actors on the screen.  His eyes are glazed over but he hasn't let the tears spill just yet.   _"You can be my wingman anytime."_

He chances a look over at Steve who has the blanket held up to his face, eyes fixated on the movie.  Clint thinks he might be feeling a bit misty too.

 _"Bullshit.  You can be mine."_   The music swells and Clint hears a breath hitch in Steve's throat.  He imagines that Steve must be thinking about Bucky. Clint reaches out and puts his hand on Steve's shoulder, giving him a reassuring squeeze.

Steve looks over at him and there's frisson in the air.  Before he can even think the words  _impulse control,_ Clint has Steve's face in his hands and he's kissing him hungrily.  Steve responds in kind, pulling Clint down on top of him.

"Bedroom," Clint mumbles against Steve's mouth.  Steve nods in agreement.  They half roll, half fall off the couch and then Clint is pulling Steve down the hallway by his hand.  The last lines of  _Top Gun_  fade away behind them. _  
_

_"This could be complicated.  On the first one, I crashed and burned."_

_"And the second?"_

_"I don't know.  But it's looking good so far."_


End file.
